


Goodside

by MissCeliaKnight



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Henry, Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ace Henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCeliaKnight/pseuds/MissCeliaKnight
Summary: Noah was the start, the time paradox. Henry was the end, the vespiary visionary. Everyone scattered to their own lives like dandelions once it was over— everyone but Henry, the only one Noah could find, could cling to once he came back. There’s too many questions and not enough answers about how it happened, but Henry doesn’t mind the time it’s taking to find them and the lies he needs to tell their friends for Noah.Henry is good at the lies, good at keeping a smile on his face. The more time Noah spends with Henry, the more Noah can see under the cracks— the more he realizes Henry was more involved in dealing dream things than any of them realized. The more he realizes Henry is his type despite that.Then, Noah hears about Victor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fantastic art piece was made by Gabi for this fic can be found here!  
> https://gabs-the-changeling.tumblr.com/post/184423986521/henry-jokingly-wiggled-his-hands-at-noah-who
> 
> Beta'd by omgitsnutmeg on tumblr!

Spring was the kind of season that gave way to boys. Winter slowly started to defrost, revealing them like ice sculptures before they melted into their seamless tans. The ice cold water worked its way into the roots of their winter vacation tales of southern hemisphere heat and girls. Girls, who competed for sun along sand-lined shores like desert flowers.

Henry was no exception to this, bragging and boasting and hyper fixating on insignificant details about his vacation to Barcelona. Blue had come for a brief amount of time, but she was more of a dandelion, quick to bloom and just as quick to scatter. She clearly felt uncomfortable without her familiar southern roots and he missed her before she’d even left. Henry always seemed to miss people, even when they were right there. Gansey had been promised to other engagements that summer, but assured them he’d come along next time.

So when Henry made his way back to Henrietta for his second year of college with her humid air and the electric hum of insects sounding much like his car, he felt as if he’d found his way back to the burrow he’d made in someone’s heart. It was warm, pulsating, comfortable, and familiar. He missed his home and her hand-carved middle atrium.

People were different. Henry liked people, but he also felt that people were like stimming. He knew at some level that he needed them and that they were fantastic emotional support, but he also knew that if he was to ever find his life at a point where he could do without them, he’d be perfectly capable. But for this life, he needed them. Even then, sometimes he liked certain people around simply for the familiarity, much the way he liked to run a familiar pattern with his fingers as if he were counting every other bit of nothingness.

He found his fingers tapping 1, 3, 2, 4 repeatedly against the steering wheel. The fog was low to the ground and working its way down the road and around his car, as if to welcome him back the way a warm bed with too many blankets did. The drive was as habitual as his tapping, which meant his body had familiarized itself with the required motions so thoroughly it didn’t need his consciousness for the drive anymore.

Unfortunately, spring was also the kind of season that gave way to the dead. Spring was the perfect time for rebirth, for the dead to regain everything they’d lost in the autumn. Spring was the push and shove of blood and screaming viscera and all of its horrendous givings of life.

Henry swerved to avoid a person in the middle of the road. His car heaved, forcing his neck to jerk, head to hit the ceiling, foot to slam on the break. Panic rolled through him as his car lurched to a stop, the driver side door flying open.

The person stood in the road as if they were one of the neverending trees, a whisper in the fog. They hadn’t moved an inch since Henry first saw them and Henry realized he couldn’t remember when they’d walked into the road. One moment they weren’t there, the next they were, as if he’d slipped through the veil of another reality somewhere along Henrietta’s familiar roads.

Maybe if something magical happened, he might have. Implications of magic and their mysteries made him think of Gansey, who would have a blast with slipping between realities and their unique alterations. Henry dragged himself back to his own reality.

He wanted to scan for the person first, but the thought of killing something practically forced his eyes in opposite directions, each eye trying to process different sides of what happened, but it just resulted in dislocated static. His chest heaved, a jerky rhythm that was a poor mockery of CPR. Every half breath heaved implications of ending someone’s life. It was a concept that made him feel like a child and Henry prefered not to think of when he was a child, so he found his thoughts shutting down.

“Hey… You, uh, you good?” Henry asked, taking hesitant, knee knocking strides as he made his way over to the person. Confusion graced their features — features Henry found himself recognizing that stabilized his knees. “Holy shit on a cross.  _ Noah _ ? They said you died — like,  _ died _ -died!” Henry gaped, unsure what the most suitable reaction to the situation was. He stumbled through several, most not even making it onto his features, before he decided on excited shock.

Noah looked as if something was on the tip of his tongue, but had decided to clamp down on it he was trying so hard to remember whatever it was. His eyes flickered up to Henry, eyes that looked far too hollow, as if sleep was a myth, as if his skin was so taut it didn’t leave room to make any sort of expression.

“...Henry?” he asked, as if the concept on his tongue melted once wet and Noah had finally been given a flood of answers. Noah turned his head to survey his surroundings, as if Henrietta was a newfound treasure he’d never gotten the chance to appraise.

“At your service, but I demand 20 bucks an hour and dental. Seriously though,” Henry interrupted himself at the realization that the first thing out of his mouth wasn’t considerate, given what had almost happened. “You okay? I didn’t hit you, did I? It wouldn’t matter anyway, would it?” Henry asked, fingers twitching in a debate if he should reach out to comfort him or if his hand would just go through him and it wouldn’t be worth the gesture.

Noah’s eyes worked their way over to Henry’s car, working backwards to follow bloody tire tracks, then met with a rabbit. Small, dead animals left dark blood and barely any tracks, maybe a few inches, then they just stopped. They didn’t have enough to give to cause a large scene and Noah was the same, barely responsive if he responded at all.

“...They like to hide in the brush,” he whispered softly as he stared at it, voice insisting the scene was surreal, insisting upon the kind of haziness that came with the kind of dreams that you could manipulate with sounds from outside of your room. “I followed it, I think.” Henry knew it wasn’t appropriate to ask like Alice.

“Like Alice?” he asked. Noah’s eyes flickered over to him, then back to the rabbit.

“...Like Alice,” he agreed. He looked back over at Henry. “...Or maybe you were the rabbit,” he decided, looking back at his car, still humming in distress from the scene. It always hummed in distress at any scene.

“I’d make a bunny noise at you to lighten the mood, but… well, I mean, they don’t make noise.” Henry shrugged. “I can quote a vine at you if you want. Or like… take you to a hospital or something — wait, no, you’re dead. The morgue? Or a mortician? Nah wait, they’re kinda more like beauticians for corpses.”

Noah couldn’t help but snicker softly, a sound like teeth when they chattered in the cold. Henry didn’t mind the sound and didn’t think to react in a way that implied it was off putting. He knew most people would have found it as such, but by the time Henry came to that conclusion, Noah had already relaxed and taken his lack of reaction to mean Henry was comfortable with his oddities.

“Can we just... get out of the road for now?” His words sounded like an apology to the rabbit. Henry jogged over to his car and opened the passenger door for Noah, the car dipped towards the low shoulder as if to make getting in more accessible. However, his tiny electric car forgot it wasn’t a truck in this life, so it was counter productive. Noah got in anyway.

“Out of the road, in the car now,” Henry chattered as he closed his door. He looked at Noah expectantly, but Noah wasn’t there, the passenger seat instead flushing from the look, seeing as it had nothing to offer him. Henry sighed, unable to see its embarrassment as he pulled away from the curb and drove the rest of the way back to his apartment. He’d need to call Gansey.

#

The general consensus they came to was as such; Noah was likely linked to Cabeswater given how he died and was buried on the ley line. That resulted in Noah fluctuating, much the way Cabeswater had from Kavinsky and the demon draining and using it. Ronan had either dreamt a new Cabeswater and had neglected to tell them, or in Cabseater remaking Gansey, it had felt the need to do the same with Noah given his relationship with it. Seeing as Ronan denied making a new Cabeswater just yet, that meant it had been something Cabeswater itself had done. Or at least that was the working theory.

The clear and present issue was that Gansey, Blue, and Adam were no longer in Henrietta, no one lived in Monmouth anymore, and Ronan had hidden the barns and all of its dreamstuffs away from prying eyes after he'd learned someone had been snooping around. That meant the only person Noah could reasonably get to had been Henry.

Henry, who knew he'd joined their tight knit group too late. He knew he would forever be just barely above an outsider, an additional and unnecessary limb on what parts made up the gangsey. Noah was more like an accessory, never anything more than temporary piece on them. The accessory had found the amputated limb and clung accordingly, even if only for a brief moment, but it was more than enough to get them all buzzing, which was comforting since it reminded him of Robobee.

Henry listened to them all theorize and chatter until it dissolved into casual conversation, which he'd occasionally chime in on. Even then, part of him always felt like he needed to explain what he said or ramble for people to understand what it was he was trying to say. Something else buzzed in his room, soft and distant like fog or silence on the other end of a phone.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Henry chirped in greeting at Noah, who seemed to shrink into himself the best he could. He wavered, he trembled, like nitrogen. “You didn't have to pull that vanishing act in the car you know. I tend to look up tutorials on YouTube for magic tricks if you don't tell me outright.” Henry thought he was funny, his phone buzzed with curiosity. Noah's eyes darted to his phone, Henry muted himself.

The air was heavy, as if it was going to thunderstorm in Henry's room. “...They know I'm back?” Noah asked hesitantly. Henry nodded. “Are they mad at me?” Henry seemed bewildered at the question.

“Why would they be mad?” Something flickered across Noah's expression, camouflaged in exhaustion.

“The Glendower thing. Me hurting Blue. Me not saying goodbye when I thought I was dying for real…” Henry hummed in curiosity. Maybe Noah had decided to seek him out because he was the only one who didn't have a reason to be upset with him. Gansey called Henry's name again from his phone.

“I mean the Glendower thing wasn't your fault, it was just something you saw go down anyway. Even if you'd have known he was dead, what were you gonna do — not tell him and ruin reality as you knew it?” Henry was teasing him, Noah didn't think it was funny. “I mean Blue's eye wasn't your fault the same way the Glendower thing wasn't. You were outright possessed — which is weird, because it calls into question possession as we know it. The goodbye thing they might be hurt over, but not mad. Even then, goodbyes feel permanent, so it was your choice to not say anything.” Henry shrugged, holding his phone out to Noah, holding out the option for him to vanish into himself or confront his new standings with them.

Noah was a coward and shrunk back from the phone. Henry cocked his head back and forth as if tossing an idea around. He unmuted the phone. “Hey, sorry. He popped up for a second, but I couldn't hear him. Should I clock when he shows up? Get him a ghost Subaru to the Barns next time?” Adam groaned. Blue went off to interrogate Henry, asking specifics, asking for how long Noah had shown himself, how he looked. Gansey was unusually quiet and everyone noticed. Henry messaged him to ask if he was alright. He left it on read.

Henry promised to call them back once Noah showed himself again, hanging up while Noah lingered in the corner of his room like a cobweb. He tossed his phone on his bed. “You going to avoid them forever? Forever is a pretty long time, but time isn't real, so you may as well get it over with.” Henry suggested. “It'll just make you anxious until you do anyhow.”

Noah didn't answer. Henry sighed, flopping back onto his bed the same as his phone, legs dangling off if the bed, tantalizing morsels for the monsters underneath. “You ghosts are weird, man…” He laid there for a long moment before sitting up on his elbows. “You think if I tell my landlord this place is haunted she'll lower my rent?” Noah snorted, quickly trying to correct himself. It felt wrong to be as tightly wound as he was only to start laughing at a bad joke. It felt wrong to be the only one happy when everyone else was thrown into chaos from his presence alone. Henry felt he needed more bad jokes. “...You wanna watch Buzzfeed Unsolved?”

#

Henry knew lying to people was bad. Noah was a people, but Noah was also hiding in Henry's shadow for over a week now, vanishing into the ether the moment someone else was present. So Henry decided not to lie, just simply avoid mentioning the truth to Noah. Henry decided his shadow needed to be sun bleached.

“So like, do you plan on talking to them at all? Even if it's like,  _ hey Henry, do your best Noah-Man impression and tell them I'm still a chaotic bisexual _ !” he offered while doing his best Noah impression of Noah's Henry impression. He watched Noah's lip quip up, he watched him bite the inside of his cheek to hide it. “Wait, are you bisexual?” Noah didn't reply. “...What are you scared of?” Henry prodded outright, since joking hadn’t taken the direction he’d hope for.

“That…” Noah paused, fighting for the right words in a way Henry recognized all to well. You had to dig and carve through memories in your head for a way to describe your feelings, that weren't logical to begin with. So, your head took a detour through sensations and through other people’s explanations. But when they came back, your initial thoughts didn't make sense anymore since the words to describe them now belonged to someone else. Henry gave Noah time to think, to work out his own explanation.

“I couldn't find anyone. I don't want anything to be different. It's already different and I don't want to know how  _ much _ different. I don't want anything I did to change how everyone… How we…” He struggled, hiccuped, known causes for the air bubbles of stress.

“I mean, I get that. It’s easy to hear  _ forever  _ when you first make friends, especially when they’re the only part of your day that you’re looking forward to after being trapped in the same building for four years.” Henry never felt that way, but he knew other people felt that way. Henry never heard  _ forever  _ when he made friends and instead heard  _ for now, for the ease of sharing a load _ . The lines etched in Noah's face promised  _ for now _ meant the same thing as  _ forever _ .

Noah nodded in agreement. “I miss them. I know… I can't go wherever they can; I can barely go outside of Henrietta. I can't go to college with Adam, or summer vacation with Gansey and Blue, I can’t get past whatever magic Ronan has up at the Barns or…  _ or _ … I'm… I'm  _ stuck _ here.” Noah was so scared of being left alone that he couldn’t even bring himself to get worked up about it. His voice was low to the ground, doing it’s best to hide.

Henry hummed, deep and far from musical, as he sat himself down on the edge of his bed. It dipped from his weight, as if to offer the floor a piece of him to taste. He tapped his feet on the floor, the floor complained his feet were still in their socks. The bed creaked in apology.

“I know, like, people always say change isn't a bad thing. But that's just because people are scared of plateauing, of stagnating. We're built to feel like we always need to move… I'd personally prefer it if people stagnated — would make it easier to catch up, you know?” Noah locked his jaw, nodding in a way that felt like listening to howling wind. “So if you don't wanna talk to them, you don't gotta. Just make sure you won't regret that. You can stagnate, that's cool. They're just not the kind of people that can.”

Henry was trying his best to not make it personal. He was trying to keep his feelings out of it, but he felt Noah had caught them, swallowed them, and chased them with his own. Henry could tell the chaser was stronger than the initial drink.

“You're talking like you're not apart of them.” Noah noted. “You trying to catch up is you not being able to stagnate either.” Henry studied Noah, all underwater wavering and crushing deep sea gravity.

“I'd be more comfortable with someone who stagnates.” Henry replied with a single shoulder shrug, eyes working from his chin to his closet. Henry never looked at people when he spoke to them. Very rarely were eyes captivating enough to catch his attention for long, but even then he'd just feel as if he was being invasive, which resulted in absurd guilt.

“I feel like if this wasn't a serious conversation, that might have been a bad pick up line.” Henry snorted, hand covering his mouth before his snickering worked its way into a chortle, then a proper laugh. Noah couldn't help but crack a grin, both coming up for air, both needing a decompression tank.

“If you wanted bad pick up lines, why didn't you say so?” Henry asked, swiping his phone up that was half under his pillow. He hung up the call he was in, sound muted, mic on. He patted the spot next to his bed, Henry inching towards the inside of it so Noah could stare at his phone while Henry Google'd bad lines to read to him.

“Oh man — okay, okay. Tell me Gansey wouldn't say something like this — I'm studying important dates in history. Would you like to be one of them?” Noah snickered, nodding in agreement. Noah was glad the familiar shiny thing he found himself seeking out in his haze had been Henry. He was glass, most of his friends were uncut diamonds. Henry was glitter slime, which Noah felt was more practical as a stress reliever anyhow.


	2. Chapter 2

There were nearly-invisible holes from the patchwork having been removed, but Noah had been astounded that Henry was the kind of person who had seamlessly situated himself into a faceless background of their lives for so long. Their lives were colored with magical brushstrokes and Henry had always reflected them like shattered glass in tire tracks. He was just as broken as they were with a clear trail that should have connected them all together much sooner. But Gansey lead them all and Gansey unfortunately had never been one to follow obvious trails.

So even with all of his nods and nudges that implied he was always involved behind the curtain while they went on with the show of their lives, no one had bothered to give him a passing glance. In his guilt, Noah had studied Henry more intensely than he had the rest of his friends, as if that would compensate and be a suitable apology.

Henry was a flicker of light that shadows danced around, desperately trying to cling to, but could get nowhere near without the smell of something burning. So, they fed off of him instead. They clung and shrouded him and Noah felt as guilty as a leech for being the same. He didn’t know enough about Henry to realize he should have been trying to decipher the shadows being cast.

The first thing Noah noticed was that Henry had the same watchful gaze he did, but Henry seemed to have more eyes. There was something enchanting about watching them open at random intervals in different pores. He wondered what he’d look like with them all open at once, if he would be able to articulate everything he’d seen. For now, he prodded at one by his shoulder, the eye glaring and obvious.

“You knew I was dead  _ the whole time _ ?” Noah asked from Henry’s bed, the question writhing in agony like a snake against a wall. It had taken Gansey, brilliant and  _ obsessive  _ Gansey, so much longer to notice. But Gansey also put distance between himself and his friends in the guise of armor. Gansey was a scared thing, where Henry was a scarred thing.

Henry turned in his computer chair to face him, opened his mouth, then closed it and ballooned his right cheek, eyes rolling around the room for a suitable answer. Noah liked how expressive he was, but every movement always felt rehearsed. It was as if he had practiced for a long time in the mirror and had just realized he could combine individual pieces from each expression all together.

Henry blew a raspberry and turned back to his laptop. He tapped his vape onto his desk twice before putting it back down.

“I mean, kinda? No one else knew who you were or could remember seeing you in class, so it meant something was up. When I looked you up on social media, I found out you were missing, found out you hadn’t aged a day and you were right here. Dead was actually one of the nicer options on my list, but even then I have no idea how they missed all that.” Noah assumed it was because he was plain as the nose on someone’s face. He belonged, so they never questioned it. Henry was used to not belonging, so he questioned everything. Noah felt bad for him.

Noah watched Henry open another tab on his laptop, which made a grand total of 17 and two pinned tabs that were all having different conversations with him. He was supposed to be doing homework, but homework had apparently broken itself into several parts on youtube. Henry paused, closed the new tab before closing out 14 other tabs as if he didn’t remember opening them in the first place.

Watching Henry work was like watching a civil war and Noah was never sure who was winning or what would happen once there was a victor. There were moments where Henry would pause, as if listening, as if his conscience was whispering to him, crickets in the background. He caught a glimpse of small metal insect legs crawling down into his shirt collar by his spine.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” That would have been Henry’s less psychologically violent and earlier addition to the group. He clearly took one look at Gansey and had pulled him apart to try to find the right nerve to strike that would let him into their group, but Gansey had only accepted his vulnerability. The right nerve had unfortunately been a heartstring and Henry wasn’t adept at playing.

“I’m ace and bisexual — why would you think I’d out you like that, Czerny?” He watched robobee crawl out of the cuff of his right sleeve and rest on the delicate skin of the back of his hand while Henry typed an email to his 20 something classmates. He asked if they wanted a PDF copy of the coursebook for thirty bucks instead of paying the original one-hundred-and-twenty. Henry would be making about five hundred bucks if they all said yes. Success under the guise of kindness was almost cruel.

“...Thanks, Henry.” Henry hummed, glancing down at Robobee as it cleaned its face from the social pollen of their conversation. He opened another youtube tab. He clearly couldn’t focus today, but that was alright. Henry was just the kind of person who needed more breaks than most. He was a glow stick, Noah was content with being the freezer.

“What episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved did we leave off on?” Noah grabbed the pillow off of his bed and held it against his chest, muffling any remaining sounds of life. He wasn’t a good influence on doing anything productive.

“Goatman Bridge, I think. We should go ghost hunting and live blog it. We’d be funny.” Noah offered as Henry had the laptop practically resting against his chin, every exhale shifting the screen.

“Ghost hunting with a ghost is fucking  _ iconic _ , Noahtthew. Wait, would you show up on camera or would I be talking to myself the entire time — the true trip, the true experience. Making my own creepypasta. Gansey Three never liveblogging Glendower was a fucking  _ tragedy  _ only Panic at the Disco could write about.”

“...Is the joke there that the song is I Write Sins Not Tragedies?” Noah asked with a grin that was a quirk of his lips and a sensation of familiarity.

“We’re in love and our wedding is in the spring. I’m taking your last name so people will actually look at my resume and call me back for interviews, even if it’s just to ask how the hell you say it.” Henry decided, Noah snickering as he adjusted to see the screen. The complicated thing about love was that it was a choice. People always preach like choirs of wild parrots that you don’t choose who you love. Noah felt you couldn’t help who you were attracted to, but love was effort, love was a compromise. Love was a choice and Noah decided if the attraction was mutual, he was going to fall in love with Henry — it would be the easiest thing in the world.

#

Henry didn’t like to be touched. It wasn’t something he tried to hide, but he didn’t go out of his way to scold everyone who tried to touch him either. He put up with every unfortunate casualty of casual social interaction, always exhausted at the end of it all. The only one who got to see that was Noah because Noah was a lurker.

It made Noah conscious of how often Henry would touch someone else or allow them to touch him. It made Noah conscious of his hands. Noah liked staring at his hands. Henry gestured with them a lot, spoke with them more than his mouth sometimes, tapped patterns on things, shook them out when he was excited, and it felt like staring at someone’s mouth only less scandalous.

His nails were typically bitten down to the quick, as if he couldn’t give himself more then ten excuses to pull them away from someone. His fingers were long, knuckles and joints comfortably pressing against the fair skin of his hands. Veins worked like spiderwebs, ensnaring Noah’s gaze constantly, no matter how subtle he tried to be.

Henry had blatantly caught him staring. 

“...You have nice hands.” Noah blurted out. He tried to remember the last time he had a crush on someone. After remembering, he decided he wanted to go back to forgetting. It hurt too much. Henry didn’t need to hurt.

“You think?” Henry asked, inspecting his hands as if he’d been in a poorly written Freaky Friday script with an even worse cast.

“Yes.” Noah croaked. He didn’t need water. He wanted water. It only took a handful of seconds for Noah to decide he’d made an ass of himself, but in those few seconds the white noise of his thoughts got into a hot debate over where food he ate and drank went. The conveniences of being a ghost were sometimes rather perplexing. Henry hummed, narrowing his eyes at his hands before shrugging and going back to typing.

“Thanks I guess, Noes.” It was casual, friendly, a bad nickname on top of it. Noah wondered if it was intentional. If he wanted to put distance there, to deter his feelings that were blooming like a corpse flower. Noah began to wonder if perhaps, even though he brought nothing with him, he was encroaching upon Henry’s space. Henry sat next to him, turning the laptop so he could see it. They were watching Psych now, having finished Buzzfeed Unsolved.

“...Was that a weird thing to say?” Noah asked softly, feeling himself fading like the tail end of a firework. He’d worked himself up into nothingness when it came down to it. Henry shrugged.

“I say weird stuff all the time and you put up with me just fine. It wasn’t bad-weird though, if that’s what you’re asking.” Henry reassured. Noah exhaled. Being alone was worse than keeping how he felt to himself.

Being alone reminded Noah of rotting.

“...You can touch ‘em if you want.” Henry jokingly wiggled his hands at Noah, who worried his corpse might rise from the dirt, bone and petrified marrow, gasping for air to fill a lungless chest cavity. He swore he had a pulse. He latched his fingers onto Henry’s with his own, who shrieked. “Christ on a hot dog bun! Remind me not to even bother with the AC this summer!”

Noah gave a soft laugh that was a mock, an echo of various sounds in Henry’s room that happened to be delightful. Henry cussed under his breath and turned his attention back to Psych. Noah kept staring at the hand laced in his.

“...Do I feel like anything?” What he meant was did he have a difference in his touch than living people. What made being touched so loathsome to Henry? He didn’t want to be loathsome or allowed to hold his hand simply to state his own desires. Not to say Noah had any aside from that. Maybe kissing.

“Aside from cold?” Henry asked, the question not asked properly.

“No, like… is there weight to my hand like a living person? Or am I just… kind of there? Like sticking your hand in the freezer?”

“...I ever tell you the story of my roommate sticking his dick in the freezer once?” Noah snorted, trying not to immediately lose it at Henry’s train of thought. He liked where it lead, even if sometimes he’d fallen asleep at some stops.

“No, but I’d like to hear it.” He ran his thumb over one of Henry’s knuckles.

“Okay, so! He had a girlfriend who  _ loved _ hot sauce, right? Snuck her into the dorms one time.” Noah snickered, already liking where this was going.

“Oh nooo…!”

“Oh,  _ yes _ ! It was late and you just hear  _ screaming _ and I swear I thought someone was coming to get me and got the wrong room, cuz you know, we asians all look the same to white people.” Noah balked with laughter, trying to listen to Henry while his body struggled to get him air, even if he was just going through the motions of laughing too hard. 

It felt good. It felt like being alive.

“So we all rush downstairs and homeboy has his  _ dick  _ in the  _ freezer  _ and in  _ an ice cream container _ .” Henry couldn’t help but chuckle, snicker, dissolve into an echo of Noah’s laughter, a mock of happy things. Noah was laughing so hard he was sure he had broken something, that he’d crumbled to bubbling pieces.

“Thank god it’s not froyo. I’d never be able to look at it the same again.” He crooned, finally collecting himself and finding nothing broken or bubbling.

“You’d just have to eat it with your eyes closed.” Henry reminded, wiggling his eyebrows and giving him a sheepish, teasing grin before bursting back into laughter.

“Oh, totally.” Noah agreed, returning the cheeky grin and a snicker. The episode had long been forgotten, the laptop fan over exerting itself having worked up too many thoughts of the potential relationship going on in front of it.

“But, um, anyway, yeah. Back to your question.” Henry ran his thumb over Noah’s knuckles. Noah was very conscious of how easily he could have leaned up against Henry. “If I don’t pay attention, you’re just cold — so I don’t mind it. I feel the weight of your hand the more I look at you and the less see-through you are, though.”

“So… this is okay?” Henry nodded.

“This is okay.” Okay turned into asleep, but Noah didn’t bother moving. He closed Henry’s laptop and pressed up against his side, staring at the hand in his.

Holding onto someone was different than it had been when he was alive. He felt as if he had a tether, as if the ocean wasn't as vast. Drowning in gray ocean foam gave the false illusion of inhaling properly sometimes. At the very least he could tell which direction he’d come from, even in the storm. He was grateful to hold the hand of the person who had lead him back.

He told himself not to be bitter towards everyone else. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know he’d come back. But he couldn’t help but hate how the moment he left, his friends melted into the salt water. No matter how much Noah had looked, they weren’t there anymore, they had fallen apart.

He squeezed Henry’s hand and closed his eyes. He missed being able to sleep. To stop thinking like this. Henry made him feel marooned and being marooned was better than drowning.

Noah was so grateful Henry let him touch him. He was scared he’d been fading again. He was glad Henry hadn’t said anything, even though it was obvious Noah had been wavering before he’d complimented his hands.

He was scared of vanishing again. He was scared of losing time and of reliving his death. Everyone else had tried to act as if it was normal, as if it was just something ghosts did. He’d been too scared to tell Blue that reliving it was literal, that he felt it over and over again and tried to pretend he didn’t.

He resented her for not knowing he lied. He resented her for running away to another state and leaving him here. He resented Adam for not caring this much when Noah had been with them before. Some part of him hated Ronan the most with how quick he was to shut himself away once Gansey wasn’t there. He hated how well Gansey carried on as if nothing ever happened.

He hated that he felt this way. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to apologize to Blue, to everyone, for back then, for this now. For the guilt they must have felt knowing they couldn’t help him. But he couldn’t bear to see them. Not when he was this hurt, this angry, when he was being this unfair.

He wanted Henry to wake up so he could ease his worries, let him feel like everything was alright. Henry made him feel included. Henry was good at pretending. He liked how he’d pretend they just had different summers as he showed him photos and videos of Blue and Gansey and their time together. He liked how they’d both pretend he wasn’t spineless, boneless, gone, dead and horrified to talk to his friends. That he wasn’t still a coward, after  _ everything  _ they’d been through.

But holding Henry’s hand for now was fine too.


	3. Chapter 3

Noah had convinced Henry to go ghost hunting during a break between his semesters, which was as hard as convincing a dog to eat a piece of bacon. It had been Henry’s idea to begin with, but to hear Noah wanted to follow through had him ecstatic. He liked when Henry was overly excited because he’d flail around as if he intended to break something, foregoing words for whooping and cheering.

They had made a list of equipment they needed, Henry ordering half of it online, picking up the other half in Best Buy, and then making a lengthy trip to a Walmart. “We should go camping while we’re ghost hunting. Stuff usually doesn’t even show up after a single measly day, anyway.” Noah offered, holding a pack of hot dogs before tossing them back into the cooler and trading them for sausages.

“You should have said something earlier, I’d have rented a camper, Noah-Broah.” Henry rocked the shopping cart back and forth as he spoke. Noah was surprised he didn’t say buy, but then keeping and maintaining a camper was likely just as horrifying to Henry as maintaining his car. 

“No, like, tent camping.” Noah corrected as Henry opened a package of watermelon oreos and put them in the baby seat of the shopping cart. They now had a child. Noah knew he should have listened to his sister about eating watermelon seeds. He wasn’t ready for a family. He was too young, too pretty — Henry was also very pretty.

“Do you see this hair?” He asked, scraping the red half of the frosting into the container before shoving the cookie into his mouth. “It’s not going to stay this lucious with nasty river water. I totally understood those girls in high school who never wanted to get into the pool in gym class.”

“Then we go home during the day.” Noah didn’t have time to correct himself, so he hoped Henry would just let him get away with making claims on his living space. After four months of this, he hoped it was a reasonable claim.

“For someone who’d been buried in the woods, you think you’d be opposed to this.” Noah waited, Henry scraped more red frosting into the container. “...That was rude.” He realized in the same way people realized the sky was  _ very  _ blue today. “Sorry.” Henry quite often said things that were mildly inappropriate, as if he couldn’t help himself from saything the first thing he thought and then running so far with it that no one bothered to stop him at that point.

Most of the time his sharp words couldn’t even graze Noah’s thick skin, but he was just worried Henry was going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and get  _ himself  _ hurt. “Apology accepted if we get gelato.”

“Store gelato or parlor gelato?” Henry asked, Noah wondering if it was collecting the red frosting or adamantly avoiding it. Seeing as he’d sacrificed some green to ensure it was all removed, likely avoiding it.

“Both!” Noah knew Henry didn’t care either way. He had an endless well of money to burn through. It took more effort to pour gasoline into the well to light it on fire in hopes that it would evaporate than it would to just let others use it how they wanted, Noah being one of the privileged.

The thing that was interesting to Noah was that it was Henry’s money. Not his mother’s, not his families,  _ his _ . Money that quick, money that  _ consistent _ , when Henry didn’t seem to do much of anything told Noah it wasn’t clean money. It told Noah he shouldn’t ask about it.

“You know I spray painted the dumpster behind that place in high school when I was bored.” Henry remembered out loud. “But we’re not going tent-camping, only camper-camping. Running around in the woods all night and eating crap in my car is neither of those.”

“Still sounds like camping to me, but if you say so.”

They paid after Noah got his gelato, hauling their goods into his small car. This made her distressed since she was a horse worthy of sea foam light ladies — not the two boys who piled three hundred dollars worth of groceries into her and then shoved oreos in her cup holder.

“I’ll bring the cart back.” Noah offered, already hopping up onto the back of it.

“I guess chivalry  _ is  _ dead.” Noah snickered at Henry’s joke, skating the cart back into the coral with a crash before jogging back. Fate was serendipitous. Noah vaulted himself into the passenger seat, Henry’s phone angled towards him in the cupholder, lighting up with a new message.

_ That’s not enough, Hive. _

#

Henry made a gun out of his hand and shot Noah, who held his chest and crumpled to the ground in the middle of the woods. Noah pretended to choke and gag, overly dramatic as he held his hands against his heart. What was left of his heart were sharp, jagged things. He was glad that even out here, in a setting that was hauntingly familiar, he didn’t have to focus on why they were like that.

He fell to the ground, Henry putting his foot on his stomach, striking a pose, making a declaration. This was his kill, his photoshoot of ivory and other illegal white people bullshit.

“I have hunted the ghost! I will now take it home and skin it and make ghost pot roast! ...Wow, that’s a tongue twister. Ghost pot roast, go pot roast, ghost post roast, ghost got gho—” Noah grabbed at his leg, Henry flailed and lost his balance, then hit the dirt right next to Noah.

“Do you even know how to cook?” He asked with a snort. Henry popped up, throwing himself over Noah, hands pinned on either side of him. Noah tried not to think about how he was being straddled. He tried not to imagine the glass like pieces of his heart sticking up out of his chest and running Henry through. He didn’t want to hurt him, but shoving the pieces farther in only hurt Noah.

He kept telling himself Henry didn’t have to hurt. Henry wasn’t Whelk.

“Shh. You’re supposed to be dead — twice now. I have youtube and Rachel Ray. I don’t need to know how to do shit.” Noah snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, I’m dead. Blehh.” He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, Henry snorting. He got off of Noah, brushing dirt off of himself. Noah stared up at the trees, golden shade of orange filtering through their leaves. He rubbed his fingers against his palms, the sound a mock of the trees in the wind. Or maybe, for just a moment, he could feel an echo from the past when he had become fertilizer.

He sat up, shaking the feeling of overgrowth from himself.

“Ghost zombie!” Henry shrieked, Noah rolling his eyes with a snicker and getting up. He held his arms out, wrists down and walked as though he had no joints in his legs.

“Chik-chik!” Henry cocked an invisible shotgun, aiming it at Noah. He lunged, Henry yelping in a falsetto Noah didn’t know he could make before darting into the woods. Noah shook his head with a grin, taking a stroll after him.

“Hey, what’s that Freddy Kruger song? Or was it Jason? The one with the nursery rhyme?” He called into the woods. He waited, listening to cicadas debate the answer.

“I don’t know — even if I did, there's no way I'd tell you!” Henry called back. Noah walked around a fallen tree towards the direction Henry's voice has come from, the remnant of the tree dried out and falling to pieces. He could understand it. He wondered if it had been quick, if it could be quick at all for a tree. Was it less painful to be uprooted than it was to be sawed into? Or maybe being sawed into felt like getting a tattoo and being uprooted was like having your scalp removed, soft tissues of its brain exposed.

Noah brushed his fingers along the dead tree as he kept walking. He rubbed at his cheek bone under his eye, a throbbing behind his eyes. “...Henry?” He croaked softly. Or perhaps he should have called for someone else.

He was alone out here. No, they were hunting for Glendower, weren’t they?

Or, no… Whelk wanted to show him something. Something in the woods, something about ley lines. No, ley lines was Gansey’s thing, wasn’t it? Had Whelk ever met Gansey? Did they have class together? No, he was meeting Whelk in the woods. These woods?

These woods. These trees that felt like they were bending forward, sheltering him, closing him in. A gilded cage of promises, glittering lies. Just a little further and he’d get the truth,  _ Noah it’s just a little further. _ So he followed a little further, always followed a little further. Whelk had wanted to tell him something, something important.

The nerves, the way he wouldn’t look at him. Noah thought he was embarrassed. Thinking about it always made him want to be pulled apart, bones and feathers like owl pellets. How could he be so stupid?

He was stupid enough to share girlfriends because it was as close as he’d ever get to dating Whelk. He couldn’t ask outright, but he’d follow him anywhere, do whatever he wanted. Magic, errands, wishes, ley lines, borrowed clothes, money, whatever he wanted.

He didn’t have to hurt — it hurt. Noah curled in on himself, a soft noise of distress leaving him as he clung to his chest. It hurt. Whelk didn’t have to say it. Noah knew it was stupid. Noah knew  _ he _ was stupid, he knew he was scared. Falling in love was like being shoved off of a cliff; no safety net, no life line.

Whelk let him teeter by the edge, promises of almost, almost,  _ We’re almost there, Noah, just a few more trees _ . Lies, lies, lies he’d grown so used to the taste of lies to where he told himself he enjoyed them. Lies tasted like decomposing, like overturned dirt, like mushrooms, like the smell of raw meat in the summer heat.

Noah couldn’t breathe, his fingers and toes felt numb. He never cared much for the woods. He liked his concrete jungle better, but he’d follow Whelk anywhere.  _ Here, can’t you feel it? Touch the ground, what do you feel? _

Noah had gotten on his knees, touched the earth the way he wanted to rub his fingers over Whelk’s hands. The wet thud didn’t sound like it had come from him, didn’t  _ feel  _ like it had come from him. But then it was like blistering heat bubbles being torn open, like his jaw wasn’t set right.

The world had turned sideways and he could see the disgust, but caught the regret. Noah knew he was gross. Noah knew Whelk didn’t like him, but that’s why he never said anything. The fact that Whelk still knew wasn’t fair. The fact that he knew, that he still lifted up his skateboard as Noah raised his arm to try to shield his face hadn’t mattered.

“Noah?” Noah screamed, defended himself, shoved and ran, tripping over himself and falling back down to the ground.

“I don’t wanna die again — _not again_! You can’t keep doing that to me, _that’s not fair_! Even after _everything, you_ got to _grow up_ , to have a _damn life_ — so leave me _alone!_ ” Whelk grabbed for his hands, but Henry wasn’t Whelk and Henry didn’t need to hurt.

He inhaled so sharply, so deep, he could feel the hollow of his bones miles away, taste dirt, hear the insects crawling around in what was left of him. “It’s okay. You’re in the woods with me, remember? We’re supposed to be ghost hunting once it’s dark, make s’mores and then complain we never saw any ghosts. It’s okay, he’s not here. Just us. You’re okay.”

Noah struggled to breathe, struggled to not cry. No one had ever bothered to touch him in the middle of one of his episodes, in the middle of him reliving his death. They just let it happen. They were scared to touch him. Henry didn’t like to be touched. Henry had touched him, said he hadn’t feel like anything. Noah wanted to feel like something important to someone, anyone. Blue, Ronan, Gansey, Adam, Henry,  _ anyone _ .

Noah squeezed his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I’m sorry…” He bowed his head, wanted to curl up on himself, vanish. Henry was grounding, Henry was warm and he could feel every small cackle of electricity from every synapse.

“Hey, that’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything you need to be sorry for.” Noah struggled for air, struggled for words. “Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Noah found it absurd that a ghost could be haunted by memories.

“I ju… I… I know you don’t like to be touched,” He started, struggled. “But please, can I hug yo—” Henry hugged him, one arm around his waist, the other holding his shoulder. Noah locked his arms around his middle, hiding his face against his shoulder.

They’d went on like nothing was wrong. They never asked him about it. With all of their magic and wonder they never asked what it was like to die, what it was like to go through that again and again and again and again and again and again and again and aga— 

“Hey, where you going? Talk to me?” Henry asked softly.

“I’m… I dunno, I’m—” Noah croaked, feeling his eyes well up, chest swell. He caught sight of his arm, of the decacy, of the rot, of him falling apart. He was falling apart again and Henry hadn’t even flinched. “...I look awful right now, don’t I?”

“You should see me after one too many margaritas — I look about the same.” Noah choked on a laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing, he should be miserable. He deserved to feel miserable for how ignorant he’d been. He deserved to relive that, didn’t he? If not, what was the point? What the hell was the point of his trauma if not to punish him for something he’d done wrong? If there was no point, then— 

“Noah?” He hummed, trying to burrow against his shoulder. “Want to go back to the car? Get out of the woods for a minute? I can belt you some Cher — we both know how you love when I belt out some Cher.” Noah sniffed, but it was actually a laugh.

“You don’t have the range.” Noah reminded, the response automatic.

“I don’t have the range for a lot of stuff but you don’t see me turning down gift horses.” Noah pulled away, trying to study his face for a translation. Henry looked expectant, eyebrows raised as he waited for Noah to get the joke.

“...Did… you mean  _ ranch _ ?” Henry’s face morphed into disgust at his mistake.

“No like home on the range, cowboys and stuff — English is dumb. I should have just let you quote the meme.” He rubbed his forehead against Noah’s shoulder, skin sliding off of his muscle and all.

Noah tried to play off another laugh, feeling exhausted. He was grateful Henry let him pull the snap of a flare, of fire, of life from him. Henry sighed, shaking his head. “It’s okay, it was still funny.” Noah reassured, falling from one routine into the other. He prefered this one.

“Come on. Let’s get you a juice box.” He didn’t take his hand out of Noah’s, but he let him skulk behind, let him hide in his shadow the whole walk back.

“...You’re not gonna ask?” Part of Noah  _ wanted  _ him to ask. There was desperation on his features, passiveness in Henry’s.

“...I got my best friend by unloading my biggest trauma onto him and having him unload his onto me, so I’m down for getting a boyfriend out of it too.” Noah flickered. Henry squeezed his hand, reassuring Noah as he lowered his gaze, the grass dying underneath his feet.

“I mean I don’t want to say something and then have it…” Have it burden him, bother him. Secrets were heavy, they were solitary for a reason. Public knowledge was humiliating, twisted and embarrassing.

“Then don’t tell me. Only tell me if you want to.” Henry took an absurdly wide step over a log that resulted in him straddling it, holding their hands up once on the other side so he help Noah climb up onto it, then over it. When Noah stepped down, Henry hadn’t taken a step back to give him room. They were so close Noah could inhale the air from his mouth. “Or, tell me anyway.”

Noah's eyes studied him, mouth twitching, heart curling in on itself, drying out, crumbling to pieces and memory. “...I’m not a good person.” Noah whispered softly, a rustling between the leaves. “I think I am, but sometimes I remember things… sometimes I do things.” It was a warning — he could have hurt Henry.

“Good is subjective.” Henry shrugged, looked at the tree by Noah’s ear, the side of his face that was smashed in. He wasn’t avoiding Noah’s gaze because of how he looked, he just normally didn’t look people in the eyes.

“But I  _ hurt  _ our friends, Henry.” Noah reminded. “That’s me now, not even me then! Me then was… God, I was…” He ran a hand through his hair, moist and rotting clumps in his hand when he pulled it away. “Like what Blue used to think every raven boy was like, I  _ was _ . I wasn’t nice, I didn’t let people cover me in hello kitty stickers or skateboard to class like they all think I did!

“I hung out with homophobes and paid for girls to get plan b pills in the morning!  _ No one _ fucking  _ missed  _ me! My disappearance was just a thing people expected to  _ happen  _ to guys like me! For  _ weeks  _ they thought I just went abroad or ran away from home or something! My own  _ mom  _ didn’t even want to hear what I had to say from Blue! I wasn’t a good son, I wasn’t a good friend, I wasn’t a good person and I…!”

Noah curled in on himself, crouched down, forehead to his knees. But Henry hadn’t let go of his hand and sat himself right next to him. “...Do you feel bad about it?” Henry asked, trying to peer at his face.

“Of course I feel bad!” Noah howled like ice wind against glass, pulling his face out of his knees.

“Well,” Henry started slowly. “When something feels bad, people try to avoid it. Why eat this if it tastes bad? Why touch it if it’s gross? Why keep acting like that if it doesn’t make me feel good?”

“This is coming from the guy who literally over exposes himself to thing that make him feel bad so he can feel nothing towards it.” Noah knew it was bitter. Noah knew it was resentful. He was angry, so fucking angry.

“I never said I was a people.” Henry reminded, nudging him lightly, Noah unamused. “But you’re a people. You tried to fight back the guy who killed you the second you weren’t deep in that moment of when you died. It’s okay to hate the person who you were then. It means the the person you are now is different, otherwise you’d admire the past you.”

“But I also hate the me  _ now _ !” Noah snapped, yanking his hand back, shooting up like a sapling over eons. “I’m still a dick! I’m the same and I keep doing the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over—” The sapling grew, wilted, curled in on itself, suffocated its own roots—

“Noah.” Henry uprooted him, moved him into a space bigger than a cinder block. Noah watched him furrowed his brow, pause to think so hard he bit his lips white. “...I can’t fix what you’re going through. But I’m not gonna ditch you, okay? I won’t leave you alone to do that over and for infinity. If you want, I can call you on your shit the way you’ve been doing for me.”

“But,” Noah croaked. “You’ll leave. You’ll go outside of Henrietta or die and I’ll… I don’t…” Noah stared at his trembling hands, terrified. Henry put his hand in his, thumb brushing his palms life line.

“You think you’re gonna get rid of me just cuz I  _ died _ ? Get real, our  _ names rhyme _ . Czerny, Hen-er-y — it’s starstuff.” He promised, pressing his forehead to his, Noah choking on a laugh. He shouldn’t laugh. Henry should stop making him laugh, it wasn’t fair. “Even if you don’t feel like you’re that different, we can always be jackoffs together. I’m totally a typical fuck-boy-raven-boy too, you know. Maybe worse.”

“No…” Noah mumbled softly. He knew Henry. Henry was unusual, good at facades, but Henry was a good person. Henry wasn’t anything like the kind of person Noah had been when he was alive, wasn’t anything like who he was dead either. “You’re better than that…”

“Hearsay.” Henry insisted, brushing his nose against Noah’s, stretching his arm out with Noah’s hand still locked in his.

“It’s the truth.” Noah grumbled, tipping his chin ever so slightly in defiance, in gratitude. If they were the same, they wouldn’t have to be seperated.

“Blasphemy.” Henry countered, shutting him down with singular words that meant the same thing. He watched his lashes rest on his cheeks, studied the pores in his face. Noah closed his eyes so hard it felt like making a wish on a shooting star.

Stars could be seen long after they were dead. They could be seen from the past, in the future. Noah had to have been like that. People who were alive like Henry, were comets, all fire and quick to burn out, but how badly people wanted to see them, to admire them. Noah was the same, admiring Henry before his eventual burn out, before he’d vanish forever.

His mouth was warm.

“...There he is.” Henry whispered softly, Noah glancing away from him, his hand in Henry’s flush with memories of life. He swallowed.

“...I loved him… the person who killed me… Whelk.” He mumbled softly. Henry let him talk, brushing his thumb along his bruised cheek. “I hate how much I loved him. How I’d do  _ anything _ , no matter how bad for him. I  _ hate  _ how every single time I have to relive me dying I have to go through me thinking… I wonder if this will make him happy. If this will get him the magic he wants. If this will fix everything for him… if my death will have been worth it… because when I come back, I know it wasn’t. Not for him…”

“Guy sounds like a dick anyway. I’d have been pissed at the universe if he got everything he wanted after off’ing you — this isn’t a Marvel movie.” Noah choked on a laugh, hid his face against Henry’s shoulder, adjusting the hold of their hands.

“No, it’s a heartbreaking romance turned romcom.” Noah grumbled.

“Oh hell yeah, I get to be the com, you get to be the rom. New ‘sonas.” Noah snickered, trying to hide further against Henry, burrow into his skin and never leave him. Maybe he could possess him — no. No. Never, no, bad.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Ah, but I’m still cooler than anyone you’ve ever met.”

“Eh. Blue might give you a run for your money.” Noah looked up at him, Henry giving him a wide grin.

“It will be a good warm up and won’t make a dent in my bank account when I lose.” He reassured, pressing their foreheads together. Being listened to made him feel better. Being kissed made him feel better.

Noah had always thought ghosts used to stay because they have unfinished business and it made sense, especially after being one, after the last time he saw his friends. But he’d doubted that once he came back, was terrified. Maybe it was deeper than that. Maybe death was a second chance to be compensated with something they didn’t have in life.

He hoped the only memory he’d have to relive for the rest of his existence would be kissing Henry in the woods— that was better than reliving his prior memory in the woods.


	4. Chapter 4

“<...Juice boxes are great because they’re a perfectly portioned sized drink so you don’t drink as much sugar if you were to like drink the whole container, you know? So you get to feel satisfied like you accomplished something from finishing the drink and then you’re hydrated without loading up on the carbs or whatever! And it fits in the size of your hand, just like a kitten. It’s like drinking a kitten.>” Henry was very loud and  _ very  _ drunk. Drunk Henry was essentially a stream of consciousness with absolutely no filter.

Henry had taken up residence on SickSteve’s couch, blocked in by a six pack of sodas, three six packs of beers, two bottles of wine big enough to fill a bathtub, whiskey, an assortment of juice boxes he’d drained, and tequila that was more there for the cute bottle than to actually get drunk with. He was drumming  _ 1, 3, 2, 4 _ against Noah’s shoulder all night, keeping him close because alcohol made him warm and Noah was ice cold.

“Henry, I have  _ no  _ idea what you’re saying because you’re talking in Korean again.” Noah snorted, pressed up against his side, Henry’s arm tucked underneath him. Henry whined and curled around him, only to pull away and toss his juice box container into the trash with a single-handed layup, then went back to stimming against Noah.

“He’s talking about juice and cats.” Ryang explained, getting up to skip a song on the playlist. Henry hadn’t seen his friends for a while, so he’d insisted they all cleared a weekend, hang out, met his new boyfriend and tell them him their lavish life stories. Lee-Squared hadn’t been able to make it, but they’d been spam messaging him on snapchat all night. There was a loud thud from outside, then cheering.

“<Did Koh get the hockey stick and frisbee off of the roof?>” Henry called out, Noah wincing at his volume, the hockey stick having been up there in the first place because of the frisbee. Koh came in with the hockey stick, Cheng2 tossing the frisbee into the house, only to be met with a chorus of objects that even Noah could easily understand.

“Fucking Koreans…” Henry grumbled as Cheng2 started apologizing, Koh’s girlfriend laughing.

“Aren’t you a fucking Korean?” Noah teased, reaching over to press his cold fingers against Henry’s neck, to rub at his jaw with his thumb.

“I’m an ace Korean, we talked about this.” Henry reminded, grabbing for his hand and blowing a raspberry on Noah’s shoulder to show his annoyance for him not remembering. Noah shrieked with laughter, half falling into the tequila and soda before Henry yanked him back up onto the couch.

He was nose to nose with Noah, a wide grin on his face. He started tapping his hand against Noah’s, watching Noah bite at his lips the best he could before his smile was so big he couldn’t hide it. Henry was happy, he adored him, and his excited stimming was one of the ways he showed it, which Noah thankfully understood. The stimming was a rythmic noise like a clock ticking or a pulse, settling into comfortable background noise just like the music. Noah tugging him down to kiss him, careful to keep his hands out of his hair.

“Cz-ern-y Ca-nar-y, you taste like very loud.” Henry mumbled against Noah’s mouth, making him snicker. “Does weed even do anything for you?”

“Nostalgia makes people feel all kinds of stuff, so close enough.”

“Amazing. He’s high on nostalgia.”

“And you’re drunk on kisses.” Noah countered, giving him a few more before Henry started rambling against his mouth.

“Do you think if we let a weed plant die, since plants are alive, if it would become a ghost weed plant and would do something for you? <How fucking cool would that be? I’m sure there’s no market for ghost weed, but there’s so much shit I’d do for you it’s insane and you don’t have any idea how much I love you.>”

“Henry, English.” Noah reminded with a laugh, Henry’s hands squishing his cheeks together.

“<Nooooo, learn Korean. English is fucking stupid and sounds bad.>” He whined.

“Ryang?” Noah called for help.

“I tuned him out after you guys started kissing. All yours, Rutherford.”

“Translating Henry in English is hard, yet alone translating Henry from Korean to English.” He complained in a mumble, not looking up from his laptop. He hadn’t typed anything out for his essay since he’d taken a few hits of the weed he’d brought with Noah.

“He’s being gushy.” Koh’s girlfriend explained, sitting herself on the arm of the couch.

“<Don’t out me like that, Noonaaaaaa. They’re avoiding telling him on purpose. They’re good friends. You are a terrible friend, which is why we’re not friends yet. But I’ve decided as soon as I remember your name, we’re friends and then you can’t out me.>” She let out a laugh, this boisterous thing that made Koh grin from across the room.

“<Someone here has to expose you to your boyfriend as an obsessive romantic. Wasn’t G3 the last one you wanted to date really badly?”> Koh taunted, opening a beer and offering it to her, then opening his own. Henry leaned over the couch to point at him, scold him, even if he hadn’t thankfully used Gansey’s name outright.

The room tilted and then he fumbled off of the couch and into the alcohol, barely catching himself. He let out a laugh, the bottles clinking together to mock the joyous sound. He dragged the rest of himself off of Noah and the couch, the whiskey never properly closed now soaking into the rug.

“Hey, hey!!” SickSteve quickly dove for the alcohol, picking it up and rushing off into the kitchen to grab a towel and grumbling about how he’d die if the rug smelled. Noah sat up, rubbing at Henry’s back.

“<You’ve been way too tightly wound if you drank enough to fall over while  _ laying down _ .>” Cheng2 scolded, sitting himself down next to Henry after moving the alcohol far out of his chaotic reach.

“<I’m always tightly wound. It’s how the watch keeps ticking, my man.>”

“Speaking of, it’s like… what 2am now? I think I’m gonna get my stuff together cuz I still gotta drive her home and go to my 9am class tomorrow.” Koh explained, now refusing to use his girlfriend’s name to spite Henry. “You want me to take you two?” He asked Noah, everyone taking the one person leaving as a sign to all get going. It wasn’t unusual to do things as a collective, to stick together like owls, even when they’d been in Aglionby.

“Nah, I can just call us an Uber. We’re way out from here anyway and it’s not fair to keep you up.”

“Can you hand me… Ah, fuck my uh… <What’s the English word for phone?>”

“Phone.” Rutherford offered, closing his laptop.

“My phone— can you hand me my phone?” He asked, tipping his head back into Noah’s lap.

Noah brushed his thumbs against his cheeks, Henry drumming  _ 1, 3, 2, 4 _ against his own chest in delight. Noah handed him his phone, Henry unlocking it with his thumb.

His most recent exchange through an unusual messenger had been left up. He had been using it right up until they reached SickSteve’s doorstep, having kept it from Noah the whole time, but it was done so casually, he hadn’t noticed.

_ Victor? _

_ Yes. Hive? _

_ Yes. Pics? _

A completely nude body without his face, with no discernable background. His body was healthy, average, no scars, no burns, no freckles, no beauty marks.

_ Like what you see? _

Henry hadn’t had the time to reply. He closed it, but being drunk made him pause to stare, remember what it was, try to remember what he wanted his phone for in the first place.

Noah had pulled his hands away from him. Henry didn’t look at him. Uber. Right.

The mood between Henry and his friends hadn’t changed, and he kept interacting with Noah the way he had before. If he acted like nothing was wrong, nothing would be wrong. Pretend was delicious that way; it was sweeter than lies. Soda made the last four cups he chugged before leaving sweeter too.

It was supposed to have been a secret.

Henry couldn’t act as though nothing was wrong when Noah blatantly ignored him in the Uber. But Henry still wouldn’t shut up, couldn’t stop himself from the word vomit, then by the time he’d gotten home, actual vomit from getting car sick.

Noah’s face scrunched up, hollow boned and an exhale from vanishing, but he rubbed at his back and waited for him to collect himself on the sidewalk. Henry almost fell down the stairs, world spinning out from under him. Noah help him, and he could feel him staring as he dropped his keys four times before just sitting down on the step.

“You saw right?” He tried very hard to make sure that was English. Maybe Noah hadn’t replied because he’d been speaking Korean again. Please let that be English. Noah picked up the keys and put them in the door on the first try.

“...We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

“But you saw right? Cuz you’re mad.” Noah shoved the front door open.

“I’m not mad.” He insisted. Henry turned his head to watch him take a few steps inside, the shadows swallowing what remained of him.

“Then you’re… not sad but not mad, that one.”

“...Upset.” His disembodied voice offered. Something wavered in the shadows. Mirth and regret and something else. Henry wondered if he was going to puke again.

“Yeah, upset.” He waited. He scrambled to his feet, using the doorway as purchase to keep himself from falling over. The fog that was Noah made its way over to the door of his bedroom. “It’s not what you’re thinking, you know. Promise.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about this right now…”

“Eight hours or more hours is a long time to be thinking about whatever you think is happening by yourself.”

“Henry— just! Go to bed!” Noah snapped, a lamp on the side table hitting the floor, the bulb shattering. “Christ, just— shut up! Seriously, shut up and go to bed!”

The house creaked. The house wasn’t old. The longer Henry stood there, the longer the crack in the window got.

Henry made his way into his room, stripping out of his clothes and crawling into bed. He wanted to think of something to say that wouldn’t upset him, something that was easy. He pressed his thumb to his phone, requesting ever so desperately in whatever word vomit congested his head that robobee keep Noah company until he was awake.

#

Henry hadn’t been expecting company, yet alone at the unholy hour of 3pm with a blood pounding headache. His veins felt small and his mouth was as dry as his ninth grade math teacher’s lectures.

“Go awaay…” He mumbled to himself, tugging the covers up over his head. There was flickering sound, like a lightbulb being knocked with its metal pull cord. “Fine, bee…” He grumbled, scrubbing his face with his hands in an attempt to wake himself up. He sat there. He dozed.

There was another knock on his door, another ring of the bell.

“Fine! I’m up, I’m up!” He insisted, as much as he would prefer to be anything but. He looked around his room, robobee nowhere to be seen. But he paused to listen, the noise too nearby to be in any other room but his own. He remembered robobee had been told to stay with Noah.

He paused in his doorway, staring at the closet before there was another knock on his door. He marched off to his front door in his underwear, immediately regretting trying to whip the door open. The sun was blinding and white out headache pulsing. He also just realized he was starving.

“...Adam?” Henry croaked, decidedly less angry, more confused and embarrassed.

Henry had never gotten along well with the dreamer or his magician. They were of Gansey’s court, his cabinet, so of course he’d tried, but it had just never gotten anywhere. Adam was resiliently standoffish and Ronan was too defensive of anyone he hadn’t adjusted to, then they all left before he’d had time to adjust to Henry.

“Hey, uh… Can I come in?” Henry didn’t miss the way he’d given him a once over, probably judging his underwear. Power rangers were still cool, but Henry wasn’t about to argue that now. Maybe later he’d embarrass himself and bring it up, but not now.

Henry moved aside, Adam carrying himself like a soldier, but trying to swallow himself up like an overgrowth. Adam quietly glanced around before he let his eyes settle on the floor, mouth set in a very purposefully neutral demeanor.

“You want some water or whatever? I have no idea what I have, hold on.” Henry admitted, dragging himself into the kitchen.

“Uh, no I’m good. Thanks.” He called from the other room. Henry got him water anyway. He finished his own glass before he even left the kitchen, setting it where the lamp used to be. Adam raised an eyebrow, not having moved from the doorway.

“Party.” He explained without telling him much of anything useful. “So… what brings you over to my not so humble abode? You can sit, you know, get comfy.” He added, sitting himself on his couch. Adam walked around the couch, avoiding the lamp to stand in front of him.

“I want to talk about Noah.” Robobee stopped making noise in his bedroom.

“What about him?” Henry asked, already deciding he was absolutely going to drink that second glass of water and use it to stall his answers. Noah didn’t want to see them, but here was one of them.

“I get the feeling of being left out when you’re right there in a group. The stuff you do and say to make yourself feel like you belong…” Adam started, eyes catching on the broken window, the cracks now splayed to look mock a mosaic.

“Uh, yeah I mean I guess that sucks?” Henry wasn’t sure where he was going with this. He sipped his water.

“I— no, I mean I get why you’re lying about seeing Noah.” Henry choked on his water, Adam winced. Noah never spoke to them, never sent them a message or photos from Henry’s phone, or updated any social media. But Henry hadn’t shut up about him, told them he was alright, how they’d gone camping, he’d even told Gansey how much he liked him.

“I’m— what the hell, what? That’s…?” Words failed him. He wanted to insist he wasn’t lying. He wanted to ask Noah to come out, show Adam he was here— but he still needed to talk to Noah about yesterday and this wasn’t something he felt comfortable doing until that was cleared up.

“We all just kind of… crumbled once we left high school. And I miss it too. You didn’t get those years we all had and I get wanting more, especially when the world is so… there’s so much to  _ experience  _ and the  _ magic  _ and I  _ get it _ , Henry.” Henry just sat on his overpriced couch in his underwear, staring at Adam start to pace his living room.

Henry wondered if he was considered a liar. He was good at keeping secrets, but that was different. At least he thought it was different. Secrets were things that could hurt people if they were exposed, tear into happiness like teeth with soft flesh. So, he couldn’t tell him that Noah was hiding in his closet and probably listening to every word. Noah didn’t have any flesh to tear into.

“I’m sorry I was kind of a dick to you in high school. Gansey isn’t the kind of person to befriend bad people and I was a judgy little asshole who thought my world was constantly falling apart and that I didn’t have time to fall into yours. And I know I should have said that a lot sooner and then maybe you wouldn’t have to feel like you still need to earn your place with us.” Henry had started tuning him out. He could talk, that was fine. He could think what he wanted because Henry was used to assumptions.

Autistic kids are weird and freaky. Ace is a made up sexuality and you’re just traumatized. Henry Cheng is the epitome of a Raven Boy, a synonym for a fuck boy. Middle children aren’t as special as the oldest or youngest. He was used to all of that and more. Although, he was honestly a little shocked that out of everyone it had been  _ Adam _ .

“...Did you talk to them about that? About how you feel about the Noah thing?” Henry interrupted, not exactly agreeing but not denying either.

“Ronan, yeah. I know you’re closer with Blue and Gansey and I just… I felt like it’d be easier to hear coming from someone who understands rather than someone trying to spare your feelings. But I also get how they feel about Noah and… and that false hope isn’t fair to them.”

“So you want me to stop?” Adam nodded, a small jerking motion.

“Front door is there, make sure you lock it when you leave.”

“Henry—”

“I’m not dismissing you, I have a gross hangover, which means I’m not exactly in the mood to hold lengthy conversations that come with whatever implied childhood traumas we share. So, if you want me to stop talking about Noah, I will. It’s whatever.” Henry shrugged, eyes locked on his bedroom door. He wanted him out so he could talk to Noah. He didn’t care if they thought he wasn’t back, if they thought it didn’t make sense. They could only theorize why the results happened and didn’t have a way to recreate them. Henry didn’t care about the how, just that he  _ was _ . 

“I’m…” Adam winced, as if he wasn’t expecting Henry to just do what he’d asked. He probably expected to have to explain more, to convince him, but that wasn’t Henry’s problem. Henry had more pressing things to pay attention to before they crushed him. “...I’m sorry. If you want to talk, you can call me, okay?”

Henry sipped on his water in his underwear. Adam saw himself out.


	5. Chapter 5

Noah had to remind himself he didn’t need to breathe. He inhaled, then stopped, upset he could never truly be still. Even the dead moved, bloated with decay and the insects that came to feast. Nothing stopped. Time marched on.

Adam showing up unannounced had scared the hell out of him.

He knew it was unfair to let Henry sit out there and listen to Adam talk down to him, to assume he understood Henry when Noah was quite sure not even Henry understood Henry. Noah understood him better given he’d sat there with him for so many nights just listening to Henry wax and wane about whatever he wanted. Even Gansey and Blue, who he could talk about at length, clearly didn’t understand him either.

He trusted Noah with his secrets and with the deep seeded hurt that came with them. Secrets could only fester under wraps. When exposed, they could be attended to. But Noah was scared Adam would yell at him, ask him for answers he couldn’t give. He was scared of being called a traitor, of being compared to Whelk. He felt the memory surge up and he squeezed his hands together, desperately mocking Henry’s affectionate interruption in the woods. But his touch was too tight, too riddled with the intensity that came with haunting memories.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clinging to the clothes in Henry’s closet and trying to pretend with only smell and to that he was right there. But Henry was nothing but  _ sound _ , so his attempt fell short. He couldn’t do this, not now. He tried to remember what Henry had said in the woods, the reassurance he’d given him. It was like tv static just barely tuned in to a station; there was distant and distorted sound that was barely discernible as a voice and no picture.

“Please not now… Just Henry, not Whelk…” He whispered softly, waiting for it to pass. Other memories surged up, went father back. That day in class, the morning before, the night before, the— He could relive his whole life if he sat like that long enough, congested and bloated with memories.

He heard the front door close. He exhaled and everything fell apart. He died again, his head caved in, blood and panic spilling on the ground then on the closet floor now.

_ Like what you see? _

Noah laid there long after it was over, robobee glowing and dimming, glowing and dimming right over his heart. He wanted to fall away right here. Why had he come back? Why him and not someone else who deserved it? Why not someone who could contribute good to the world?

He unsure if Henry had fallen asleep on the couch or if he was just sitting there, waiting for him. Maybe he’d sit there so long he’d be covered in dust, overgrowth from the plants outside of the house— maybe he’d die waiting. Maybe he’d  _ hurry up _ and fucking  _ die  _ on that couch.

“No… Shh, no.” Noah scolded himself, terrified of the remnants of rage at Whelk that had soaked into his thoughts. But he hadn’t wanted to face Henry last night and now was no different.

Boyfriend had been such a soft title, a thing Henry had been allowed to know Noah had  _ craved  _ since he was alive. He’d given it to him, Noah wearing it like a badge of honor, but it had rang hollow after he saw those messages.

There was a knock on the closet door.

“...Noah?” Robobee fluttered its metallic wings, a sound like heavy insects caught in blinding electric lights that would kill them.

“He’s dead, go away.” He croaked at Henry. Go away. He didn’t want to face him or Adam or Blue or Gansey or Ronan— none of them. He should have stayed dead. Why couldn’t he stay dead? He didn’t want anything anymore— not the way he had with Glendower. There was no revenge with Whelk, no quest he needed to complete with Gansey. Now he was here for selfish reasons that only came with the living.

“Well can we host his funeral out here, please? I have a really nice speech prepared.” Noah didn’t move. Henry opened the closet door and sat outside of it, still in his underwear. He hadn’t even gotten dressed to get the door. Noah would have been embarrassed for him or maybe even found it funny any other time. Henry handed over his phone, the same messages from earlier.

“I don’t want to see that.” Noah croaked.

“You do, though. It’s yours— I mean it will be. It’s for you— this doesn’t make sense, I’m sorry, lemme try again. Okay, so I was thinking you know how ghosts can possess people? I thought maybe you could possess something that was empty— a body.” Noah raised an eyebrow, taking his phone.

_ Victor? _

_ Yes. Hive? _

_ Yes. Pics? _

A completely nude body without his face, with no discernable background. His body was healthy, average, no scars, no burns, no freckles, no beauty marks.

_ Like what you see? _

_ One photo is cheap and I’m giving you a lot for this. _

_ You’re coming to inspect it anyway, aren’t you? _

But more photos were sent anyway. The backside, the face missing features, the lack of nipples, no hair anywhere, close ups of joints that could bend either way when they weren’t supposed to.

An empty vessel. A body.  _ A dream thing. _

“That’s…” Noah’s head spun.

“You know when Adam was talking to me, I was thinking about the last thing I said to him and Ronan— like really said and meant.  _ Be magicians. _ ” Henry had to had dusted off years of memories for that singular, important moment. “Because I don’t think they remember what the last thing they said to you that had meaning was. You gotta be careful how you talk to people… and I wasn’t careful enough with you because you got mad when you saw this.”

If Noah had trusted him more, if he believed him more, he might have reacted differently— that was what Henry was saying. But it had nothing to do with Henry and everything to do with Noah who was exhausted from people stabbing him in the back or leaving him.

“I don’t go into these things looking for friends or boyfriends or girlfriends or… or people that are supposed to matter, so I have a hard time expressing my feelings when I do find them. So I just parrot the thing that I know is supposed to be important as often as I can and hope it sticks… I love you a lot, Noah. Like, kind of creepily so.” Henry wasn’t looking at him, but this was blatant, eyes darting to every and anything that wasn’t any part of Noah around his room. He was embarrassed.

“I know you mentioned your mom traded in dream stuff and asked you to keep an eye on Gansey and us because of that, but… Henry, how much was this?” Noah thought of the money Henry had that felt wrong, too much too soon.

“...I owe this guy a different dream thing.”

“Do you have it?” If Henry already had it, things would be simple, easy. Henry shook his head and Noah felt his stomach shrivel up and squeeze out of him through his spine. Noah knew from Ronan alone that dream things could be dangerous, they could get you killed like Kavinsky or Ronan’s dad.

“When the dreamer dies, that body isn’t going to work anymore, Henry. It’s not worth it, its—”

“Yes it will. It’s an object and objects still work after their dreamer is dead, but living things don’t.” Henry interrupted, finally looking at Noah’s shoulder. "Your friends were considering making a deal with a  _ demon  _ to get you back. I can do the same thing, only it won't cost me my soul or bodily autonomy."

"But it'll still cost you... and you shouldn’t have to pay that price just for someone like  _ me _ . I’m already  _ dead—  _ you guys didn’t even know me when I was alive.”

"Noah…” Henry huffed, hitting his palms against his legs. “You’re important to them— you’re important to  _ me _ . What good is living in a world with magic when you can’t use it to help people who deserve it?”

“I…” Henry was going to bruise his legs if he kept hitting himself that hard. “I don’t deserve…” Noah quietly reached over and put his hand under Henry’s. “Squeeze?” He requested, Henry squeezing so hard Noah was grateful he didn’t have any blood flow to cut off.

“If you were listening to Adam at all, he was saying he gets it feeling left out or whatever, but that’s  _ his  _ hang up, not mine. There’s too many people in the world for me to sift through and figure out if they’re gonna mean something. I found Gansey and Blue and  _ you _ . You don’t get to decide what you’re worth to me, Noah.”

“...We may not even work out!” Noah blurted out, unsure if he wanted to argue with Henry or if he just wanted to be angry. “What if I get this body and I’m too much of a disaster for you to want or I decide I don’t like you anymore?”

“Then you don’t and you can move on with your life…!” Noah felt his entire body tense, seize up. The dead were supposed to move on. Noah inched out of the closet until he was sitting knees pressed to Henry’s.

“...Can I hug you? Please?” Henry nodded, Noah immediately hiding against his shoulder before coiling around him. He sat like that for a long time, soaking up his life and affection and Henry’s brand of selfishness. He chose this one as intensely as Henry had chosen him. “How are you gonna get the dream thing they want…?”

“The way I got this one.” Noah hadn’t asked about the money. He hadn’t asked about the small things in Henry’s room like the lightbulbs that hadn’t gone out during the storm. He hadn’t asked about the shower that never ran out of hot water. He hadn’t asked about the laptop battery that never died. He hadn’t asked about the chapstick that never ran out and always ended up in his bag no matter where Henry had left it. He hadn’t asked about the water bottle that always had ice cold water in it no matter how long it was left out in warm weather.

“Do you have to do it by yourself? If it’s for me, you shouldn’t have to do it by yourself…” Henry hummed and Noah didn’t know if that was a confirmation or acknowledgement. By letting Noah help, he’d be addressing how dangerous dealing in dream things was. By denying him, he’d be contradicting his own words. He was probably trying to find a middle ground.

Noah pressed his cheek to Henry’s, fingers rubbing at his spine, robobee resting on Noah’s shoulder. “...It would be safer for me to do pick ups. If I get shot or something if it goes wrong, I won’t get hurt the way you would. Or I could... ask Ronan…”

Henry pulled back just enough to kiss his forehead. “If you feel up to talking to him, but you don’t have to force it.” He mumbled into his hair, lingering.

“But it’ll be done and over with if we get this person what they want in exchange for the body, right?” Henry quietly studied Noah’s features with such intensity it made Noah wonder if he was fading. “...This is forever if you do this, isn’t it?” Henry nodded. Noah wondered if he should apologize, but instead he just hid against Henry again.

Noah didn’t take back any of his offers to help. If they did one together, they’d have to do them all together. If Henry was willing to give up the normalcy he’d been allowed, the least Noah could do was make it easier on him.

Noah quietly ran his fingers along the scar on Henry’s lower back. It was faded, but that was only if you had the original to compare it to. He’d told Noah when he was small, the scar had been small. But he grew and so did the span of the scar and the healing pain that came with it.

He told him he’d come back with all of his fingers and toes and both eyes, as promised. He told Noah that didn’t mean he’d left with everything. Some part of him was still in that hole, a part he’d never get back, just like the part Laumonier had taken out of him when they made that scar. Noah wanted to be another scar, a thing that would never leave him no matter how it changed.

#

Henry’s Madonna shirt had snagged on a skewer poking out of the garbage. It was his favorite shirt that he’d practically lived in, becoming so worn that it had ended up pajamas. He’d immediately dropped the trash to inspect it, Noah pausing with the recycling in his arms.

“Son of a bitch.” Henry hissed, a clearly visible hole torn into it. He stood there in their driveway for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Henry?” Noah adjusted the recycling in his arms. He watched his hands hover over his thighs, making motions to hit but arguing with himself against it. Noah tossed the recycling in the bin, quickly trying to free up his hands for Henry to grab onto.

“M’fine. It’s fine. Blue chic or whatever.” Henry convinced himself more than Noah, picking up the trash and keeping it as far away from him as possible.

“Doesn’t Blue wear boho chic?” Noah clarified, vague fashion knowledge aside from this looks cute on the mannequin and therefore will look good on me.

“I don’t know who that bitch Boho is if she never followed me on twitter, so.” Henry tossed the garbage into the can, then marched himself back inside, wringing his shirt out in his hands.

“Do you want my hands?” Noah asked, on his heels like a shadow as he followed him back inside.

“No.” Henry snapped at him, a quiet bite that didn’t draw blood. Noah felt his mouth twitch. If Henry was mad at him, he’d unfortunately be quick to say so, but he was careful to try to sound like he was joking at first.

“Do you want a distraction or do you want to talk?” Noah tried instead. Most of the time Henry wanted a distraction, but Noah always asked anyway.

“I'm having a time. Not a good time, just a time.” Henry grumbled, flopping himself down onto the couch. Noah sat next to him, legs pulled up off of the floor, arm over the back. “I like this shirt— I really like this shirt. It’s my favorite shirt.” He was practically whining, repeating himself because he didn’t know how else to verbalize his feelings.

“...You don’t have to throw it out just because it’s got a rip in it. We can make it a bandana or something.” Noah offered. Noah had taken up residence with Marie Kando in the living room lately.

“Popstar gang.” Henry mumbled, tugging at his shirt, stretching it out. He was going to ruin it even more in his frustration.

“I can be Kesha. We can go out and get a Kesha shirt and practice on that one first so we don’t ruin yours, yeah?” Henry hummed, didn’t look at Noah, eyes searching for something. “...Henrryy.” Noah sang softly, trying to get his attention.

“M’having. A time.” He’d said that alrea— oh. A meltdown.

“...Should I stop talking?” Noah asked, pulling his arm from behind the couch and into his lap. Henry shook his head.

“Keep talking, don’t ask me stuff.”

“Do you want me to read you a story or something? I can pull up some bad Teen Wolf fanfiction or something. Wait— crap, no questions. Duh. Lemme… oh! I can talk to you about the underground glitter industry! Well less underground, more like no one know how the hell to make glitter because like its all own by two guys and they refuse to tell people what’s in it— or so I hear. But that’s fine because lush has biodegradable glitter that Blue got me hooked onto! There’s one bathbomb that looks like an egg and its gold glitter and I forget what it smells like, but it’s really neat! Like you! You’re neat!”

The corner of Henry’s mouth twitched up, but the rest of him still looked miles from his living room. Noah wanted to know where he’d gone and if he could bring him back. Was he thinking about a few moments ago? Was he thinking about when they’d leave to go get t-shirts to practice making bandanas out of? Where was he? Noah wanted to go get him and bring him back.

But that wasn’t Noah’s job and he wasn’t well versed in it anyway. He watched Henry’s eyes well up, watched him fight back tears and his jaw clench. He wondered if it was just about the shirt or if it was a collective of things. He wasn’t allowed to ask questions. He was just supposed to keep talking and keep him tethered.

Henry had said it was fine, but his entire life was going to be ruined once he picked up Victor. It was a major change, then one of his favorite things got ruined, and he couldn’t talk to any of their friends. Noah was making it hard on them. Henry was doing everything for him, above and beyond, and Noah was just ruining his life.

“...Um… I was… I was also thinking about using your phone to text Blue. I miss her… I want her to ramble about how you can’t be an ethical consumer under— crap what’s our government again? I’m sorry, that was rhetorical. Kinda. Um… But if I talk to them, you can talk to them too. And we can invite Adam over for lunch or something and surprise him and watch the look on his face when—”

“Can we make out?” Henry interrupted, still not looking at him. His shirt was stretched out.

Noah fumbled. “I— what, I mean I’m— sure?” Noah choked, red in the face as if he hadn’t kissed Henry before.

“That or play video games. I wanna do something with my hands but something that doesn’t take a lot of effort. And I like video games but if I lose it’ll suck… I don’t wanna suck, I wanna make out.” Noah nodded feverishly, wiping his hands on his pants as if he had the capacity to sweat.

“Whatever you want.” Noah agreed, but he was selfish and wanted to pretend everything was alright for as long as possible. He was good at it pretending and he was good with his tongue.


	6. Chapter 6

It was raining down a single alleyway as Henry's car hummed passed, Henrietta’s sky clear. Henry had expected to meet in a warehouse or at night in a hotel or maybe an empty parking lot. Instead, parked in a white rural neighborhood with picket fences where everyone probably had a purse dog— so just as sinister. A bald woman in a suit with a floral vest underneath the dark blue jacket stood by the gate.

“I didn’t know these kind of exchanges were informal events or I’d have worn a cute little suit vest and a more expensive chrome watch. I’d probably still wear the hightops, though.” Henry chirped as he got out of his car.

“And I was expecting an adult— and a single one at that.” The seller snarked as Noah got out of the otherside with a briefcase in hand.  Henry felt his mouth curl into a smile like ignited gunpowder.

“Get it together, man. Hive is another synonym for a consciousness, a collective. If you got a problem with it, I can leave and take my offer with me.” The woman adjusted her suit and smiled, unphased by Henry.

“As if you’re the only one with an offer.” She reminded. Henry knew how this game worked. He’d watched it get played so many times he could rattle off the rules in his sleep.

“But I know what I’m offering is something they didn’t, which is why I’m here… and they’re not.” Henry didn’t miss a beat. “So baby stop being coy and let’s get down and dirty, shall we?” Noah pressed a hand to his mouth, trying not to snicker as Henry let himself into the gate.

“You should watch how you speak to people.” She was trying to remain composed, but Henry knew to her, he looked like some arrogant child he had been handed everything his whole life. Blame the millennials with their avocado toast and all that. She walked inside of the house regardless.

“And you should lighten up for someone sending me nudes of a body that isn’t yours. So let’s see it.” Henry followed her inside, watching her sit on a couch with a plastic cover. It could have been for blood, it could have been just weird Old People Things™. Henry sat himself down on top of the living room table, Noah hovering behind him.

“Money.” She quipped. Henry groaned, tipping his head back against Noah’s stomach. Noah set the suitcase on his lap and opened it, leaning over Henry’s shoulder.

“You can count it, check it, sniff it— touch it bring it babe, watch it turn it leave it stop’omatic. Etcetera.” He flashed her a wide, perfect smile.

“I thought it was touch it, bring it, pay it, watch it, turn it, leave it, start, format it?” Noah mumbled softly, even though Henry had requested he let Henry do all of the speaking. But since he wasn’t talking to the dealer, he’d let it slide.

“...Can I blame this on time and English being a bad language?” Noah’s mouth quirked up and affection settled in the corner of his eyes. He pulled away with the same unfortunate ease of a summer breeze. Henry set the suitcase on the floor and kicked it over to the couch the woman was on.

“You should really tone down that cocky behavior of yours. It’ll get you into trouble, Hive.” The dealer warned, checking through the money with a kaleidoscope eyeglass, very likely a dream thing.

“...Nah. I’m not exactly fond of being soft and demure, especially in this business.”

“Try more  _ professional _ .” She corrected, putting the eyeglass down. “Your little…  _ friend  _ could take the same advice.” She narrowed her eyes at Noah, who was ice behind Henry’s back. He was sure Noah looked like he was going to jump Henry’s bones right there on her ugly as sin living room rug. The anticipation had set in during the car ride and Henry could feel it as well.

“You gave him the advice when you gave me the advice. Hive and all that. So thanks, but no thanks. This is the hill I’ll die on— but at least I’m choosing to die.”

“Given the alternative is living forever, not sure which is worse.” Noah offered, unable to help himself. The woman grunted, hoisting herself up off of the couch.

“Upstairs.” She instructed, leading the way. Henry followed her, keeping a leisurely pace back and Noah couldn’t help but vanish, then appear two stairs ahead of him.

“ _ Hive _ .” Henry lectured, but it sounded more teasing than any sort of scolding.

“Sorry.” Noah mumbled softly. “Got excited. It’s like skipping.” He mused, Henry smirking as he passed him on the stairs. The woman opened a door, Victor on the single bed. Victor could take on whatever features someone wanted, be it a dead loved one, someone famous, a relative, so on. All it required was someone touch it and imagine a face. Only after the person who touched it decided they were done with that face would it melt into a blank slate and someone else could use it. Getting it to move required constant contact.

The dealer stood be the side of the bed, gesturing for them to inspect it. Noah glanced at Henry, who gave him a nod. Noah approached it, hand hovering over its arm. Henry watched him tentatively touch it, lean over it and brush where it’s eyebrows would be, run his fingers down his torso.

“...It’s wonderful.” He mumbled softly. Henry approached it, brushing his thumb against its cheek, but looked at Noah. He watched Victor mirror his face, then watched the mole below Noah’s left collarbone appear. The face was the selling point, but the whole body could be changed. He then he watched Victor melt back into nothing when he decided that was enough.

“We’ll take it. I’ll keep in touch with the other half of your deal.” Henry still hadn’t told Noah what he’d promised her for it.

“Shall I help you load it into your vehicle?” She offered, but Henry couldn’t tell if she wanted them gone sooner or wanted to know she’d be getting her second half of the deal sooner.

“Nah, just wrap it up nice with a little bow.” Henry gave it’s thigh a pat, glancing at Noah, who couldn’t stop grinning.

#

Noah choked, gagging and unable to sit up.

“Slow, take it slow, it’s okay. One thing at a time—”

“It’s— it’s  _ everything  _ at a time—  _ fuck _ !” Noah hissed, ejecting himself from the body. He dry heaved next to the bed, even as a ghost. “God… damn it, that  _ hurts…  _ Everything is heavy and breathing is— hell, do hearts  _ seriously  _ do that the  _ whole  _ time you’re alive? How the hell did I ever exercise with it doing that?” Henry snorted, Victor with Noah’s face, arm hanging off of Henry’s bed. It was dressed now, in clothes Noah had picked out himself.

“Try again. We got time.” Henry reassured. “Just… try sitting in it for a minute. Don’t worry about moving.”

“But it’s  _ so much…  _ There’s so much your body does while you’re alive that you don’t have to control...” Noah croaked, staring at Victor— at  _ his  _ body with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, contempt and loathing in his eyes. He wanted this so badly and it was practically rejection.

“...You can take a break then.” Henry offered, sitting on the bed. He quietly brushed the bangs out of his body’s face, sweat beading on its forehead.

“No— No, I want to try it one more time.” Noah insisted, undeniable desperation. Henry reached over, thumb brushing his cheek.

“Okay. Once more. But no more bargaining, I’m not god.” He teased, Noah relaxing a little. Henry watched Noah sink into the body, watched him try to carve a space into it that was his. He watched Noah choke, watched every muscle in his body tense. Noah had said being touched on top of trying to handle everything at once had been too much. Which meant he graciously told Henry he didn’t have to touch him.

“Breath, Canary. It’s okay. Just breathe, that’s it.” Noah wheezed, all mucus and swollen lungs. He watched his eyes well up, watched his back arch, watched Noah’s body flop back onto the bed. He’d been doing this for hours.

#

“...I feel like this is going to take centuries.” Noah mumbled softly, his body on the floor by the closet and Henry barely awake yet.

“Mm.” Henry grunted back, thumb brushing over the back of his hand.

“I mean, how do other ghosts do it? How old is Annabelle— like, the real doll not the movie. How long do you think that took her if it’s legit?” He’d clearly been thinking about this all night if not something similar.

“Dunno... “ Henry mumbled, turning over to press his forehead against Noah’s shoulder. He was cool. It was too early to be this hot. “Can you shove your hand up the back of my shirt?” Noah did as he asked, but kept talking as if he hadn’t.

“I mean what if I don’t get the hang of this until like… until it’s too late? What was the point of it then?”

“...Canary, babe, you literally just gotta be able to sit in the damn thing. We can get you a wheelchair or something and go to Disney world— just don’t puke on me.”

“...I haven’t been to Disney world since I was alive.  _ God  _ I hated that place.”

“Fine. Orlando, Cali, whatever you want.”

“...I want fuck in an igloo.” Henry snorted, burying his face against the pillows. He sat up, yawning and scratching at his cheek.

“We can’t fuck in an igloo, but I can get real kinky and stick your dick in gelato.” He gave him a cheeky grin that lacked his usual deviousness due to him still being tired.

“Noooo!” Noah snorted, tugging Henry back down to cuddle.

“Yeeess.” Henry crooned. He needed to shave. Noah ran his fingers up and down his spine, sweat clinging to his shirt. They laid like that for a long moment, Henry feeling the dredges of sleep pulling him under.

“...Are you asleep again?” Noah asked softly, scratching at the nape of his neck. Henry grunted.

“M’up.” He was, in fact, not up. But Noah had stopped talking, which meant he knew Henry was in and out of consciousness and wanted to give him the option of going back to sleep. Henry’s phone buzzed, a specific ringtone that told him he  _ had  _ to look at the message.

_ <Do you still live in the same house and are you home?> _

_ <Yes.> _ He typed back. < _ Indecent, but yes.> _

< _ You have 15 minutes to get decent. _ > Henry quietly stared at the message, debating if he should use that fifteen to run away. He sighed, getting up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not… wrong, just… My mom is coming over. She doesn’t ever come over just to say hi, you know?” Henry glanced at Noah’s body, wondering if he should hide it.

“Oh… Should I go?” She had no reason to come into his room, so he decided against it. Even if she did, he didn’t have to explain himself to her.

“Nah, you’re good. I’d just stay in here until she’s gone. The less questions she has the better.” He’d have to shave later, even if it would drive him nuts until then. For now, he stole glances to Noah, who would smile every time because he watched him get dressed.

He chugged some water and two a vitamin before gingerly sitting himself in his living room, glancing around and wondering if there was something he could fix. The window had been replaced, the lamp fixed. He debated doing the dishes, but having prune hands when his mom came over was somehow more embarrassing. His house was one thing, his appearance, how he carried himself and how he spoke another.

She was there in exactly fifteen minutes, Henry opening the door for her. She glided into the room as if she were on ice, removing her shoes and putting on the slippers Henry offered her. He let her sit first, then sat to the right of her.

“<...You know not a lot goes on in Henrietta without me hearing about it.>” He expected this to be about another thing she wanted him to keep an eye on or his deal.

“<...I know.>”

“<Then why are you buying things? You could just ask, I would get them for you. Why show your face when you still have things people want?>” Her tone was collected when everything else about her told him she was upset with him.

“<I always have things people want. Money, status, swagger, robobee— what’s another thing?>” He meant it genuinely, even with his flippant tone as he leaned back against the couch, lacing his hands together. He tapped his index finger against his hand.

“<You don’t have  _ protection  _ or  _ experience _ , Henry.>” 1, 3, 2, 4.

“<You count as protection, even if you don’t act on it. Experience is something you get by doing and I’ve done enough to know more than anyone else trying to get into this business. Probably even the Lynch’s.>”

“<You don’t know anything about them and what they’ve done for this business.>” She snapped, defending Niall and the gift she could never truly repay.

“<I’m not talking about Niall. I’m talking about the oldest, who fucked up that deal in Cancun a month ago because he’s still learning. I’m talking about the baby brother who got kidnapped by an outsider like Kavinsky because he doesn’t know any better. I’m talking about Ronan, who tries to shut himself out of it like that’ll work. I’ve been helping you with this since I was a kid while the Lynch kids were kept out of it. You don’t even have  _ hyung  _ or  _ Yun  _ do what I do. Out of everyone to newly enter this business, I’m probably the one who’s got the safest chance of doing it without getting myself killed. Did you really expect me to  _ not  _ end up a dealer after all of that?>”

“<I expected you to know better than this by now. For all your big talk, you did something irrevocably  _ stupid _ .>” She hissed, practically a viper ready to bite him. “<What the hell are you even going to do with that product anyway?>”

“<I don’t have to tell you anything.>” He didn’t. He told himself he didn’t. He felt guilty anyway.

“<Then you shouldn’t expect help from me either.>”

“<Then I won’t. I still have ten fingers and toes I can use.>” It had come out before he could stop himself. He’d been working on watching what he said with Noah, but it still happened when he was upset.

“<Don’t you  _ dare  _ throw that back in my face. If anything, that should have been a  _ lesson  _ for you not to do something like this!>”

“<Life isn’t that black and white and you know it! Did you seriously come over here to tell me this when you know there isn’t anything I can do to change that now?>” His mother stood up, opened her clutch and tossed a ring at him so hard it bounced off of his arm and rolled under the coffee table.

“<I came to be your mother, but you need to be a son for that to work— not a dream dealer. You don’t do favors without expecting something in return for competition.>” She kicked the slippers off and forced her feet back into her heels, then left as Henry picked up the ring off of the floor.

“...Henry?” Noah called softly from inside of their room. Even if he didn’t understand what was being said, yelling was universal.

"...You know my dad does stuff because he’s supposed to. He sent me and my siblings money if we needed it. He pushed us to get better grades so we would have it better than he did. He’s different than my mom. When I was a kid, I thought she hated me. Especially after she didn’t pay to get me back, acted like she didn’t care, and let them hurt me. So it slips my mind that sometimes she does stuff because she loves me.”

The ring burned in his palm, pulsing and alive. He clenched his hand around it, pressing it to his forehead. This was what the dealer had wanted for the body.

#

“How do you feel?” Henry asked softly, Noah confined to the bed in his body for as long as he could handle. He’d made it up to four hours by now, but he couldn’t do anything but lay there. This had taken him months and it was clearly weighing on him that he couldn’t do this any quicker.

“Living…” Noah choked. “Feels like dying… It feels like when I’d fade and need to cling to someone… only it's slow… I can feel it and it’s so… so terrifying and awful… I’m scared, Henry.” He choked, ejecting himself from the body to dry heave. Henry quietly rubbed at his back.

“Sounds about right.” Henry chuckled. “You talked a lot just now though! You’re getting better!” Noah grunted, flopping back onto his body, but not getting into it.

“I’d say I want to die, but, well.” He vaguely gestured to himself, Henry grinning. He knotted his fingers in his hair, kissing his head and letting him take a break.

His mother hadn’t spoken to him since, be it for information or in general, but he assumed that was her way of desperately trying to keep him out of any more dream deals. Henry couldn’t promise anything, but he’d quietly started mentioning a boyfriend he’d do anything for in passing in places he knew she’d see.

At some point, once Noah could do more than wheeze and dry heave, he wanted her to meet him. He had realized that he’d quietly done what she had for him; he’d put himself in an impossible position, risking things he shouldn’t have to. He was understanding her the older he got.

Their doorbell rang.

“...Were we expecting company or pizza?” Noah asked, bewildered.

“Neither.” Henry admitted, just as startled.

“Maybe Mormons.” Noah offered.

“Or worse—  _ Christians _ .” Henry dramatically dropped his voice several octaves, pulling the corners of his mouth down as far as they could go.

“ _ I’m _ Christian.” Noah reminded, brow furrowed.

“No, you’re Noa—”

“ _ Shut up _ — shut up, I hate you and I’m mad I fell for that.” Henry snickered, kissing his cheek before getting up to get the door, Noah sliding off of the bed to follow. “Can we treat this like a drinking game? Any time they say savior or something we take a sip of wine or something? I don’t mind looking like a day drinker.”

“Oh, I’m  _ so  _ down.” Henry agreed, eagerly anticipating who was behind the door now. Noah’s smile dropped once Henry opened it.

It was Gansey. Impossible, ever present Gansey. Henry had heard that shaking inhale from Noah every day for months now. He grabbed for Noah’s hand, worried he’d be so scared he would vanish on him.

“...Hello. May I come in?” He glanced at Noah, then looked at Henry. Blue was out in Ronan’s car. They’d have heard the Pig or the Shitbox galaxies away, but that meant they’d wanted to be quiet. Henry wasn’t sure what that implied, but it said they either believed him about Noah or were worried Henry would run off. He assumed they were only worried he’d run off because he’d muted his facebook and instagram dms. It was easier to not talk about Noah when the temptation wasn’t there, but then he’d forget and it likely felt like to them that he’d dropped off the face of the earth. They’d likely come for Henry and just happened to catch Noah.

Henry glanced at Noah, who swallowed hard. He had watched him fiddle with messages just as long as he’d been trying to stay in his body. What should he say? Where should he start? Should he make his own accounts? Should he use Henry’s phone? Would it feel like Henry was a liar if he used his phone and would that hurt his relationship with them even more? He'd asked Henry so many things, but hesitated so much that he never sent anything at all.

Noah shrunk back into the house, but nodded.

“...Yeah, sure.” Henry hiccuped, paused and didn’t end up calling him any bad nickname off of his endless list.

“We were worried about you, so I thought we’d pay you a visit. How have you been?” Gansey asked, glancing around the house, the flats over boat shoes new for him. He looked like he was about to crawl out of his own skin and explode into thousands of spiders.

“You know. Here.” Noah flickered next to him, squeezed his hand so hard it felt like lightning had worked through his nerves and reminded Henry why he didn’t like to be touched. “Too tight.” He mumbled softly, Noah loosening his grip.

“So you’ve been okay?” Henry nodded. “...And Noah?” Noah let out this soft noise, unable to help himself. He sounded wounded.

“I was scared you’d hate me…” Henry watched the breach, the inevitable downfall of Noah's endless battle to try to talk to them end. “After what happened, I thought…” He thought their relationship was irreparable.

“Why would I hate you?” Gansey asked, bewildered. “You gave me so many things, so many friends, so many moments, and so many more after that. I could  _ never  _ hate you, Noah. Not in any lifetime.”

Noah’s bottom lip trembled. He squeezed Henry’s hand too hard again before pressing his palm to his eye to stop the oncoming tears. Gansey placed his hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer. Gansey was a livewire of life like the one Noah was still trying to fit into. Gansey wasn’t angry. Gansey didn’t hate him.

Noah let go of Henry and bawled.


	7. Epilogue

“But that theory has so many unanswered aspects to it.” Gansey objected, pointing a spoon at Ronan, gelato cup in hand.

“No, listen— shut up, Sargent. Listen.” He cocked his chin out at her before turning back to Gansey. “Kavinsky was fucking with Cabeswater before the demon and practically killing it. So, if Noah was connected to Cabeswater and it was falling apart, Noah also  _ literally  _ falling apart makes more sense.”

“That  _ only  _ explains how he died as a ghost, not how he came back.” Blue shot back, quick to defend Gansey, but even quicker to always try to argue with Ronan.

“Yes it does.” Adam cut in. “Because the revival of Cabeswater also brought back Noah.”

“Noah came back before New Cabeswater and it doesn’t explain how his life would be connected to the new one when no part of it is composed of the Old Cabeswater.” She snarked back, feeling pride in her ability to poke holes in their theory. Gansey beamed at her.

“Gansey-Man.” Henry cut in softly, putting his spoon back into the cup he and Noah shared. “Cabeswater never left, just changed itself up a bit, twisted it self around and is now in our hot resident daddy.”

“...If you ever call him that again, I’m legally obligated to strangle you with my fallopian tubes.” Noah hid his face against Henry’s shoulder and snickered, lingering against him.

“Well at least you’ll have a use for them Ms. Stop Asking Me About Kids I’m Going To Adopt.” Ronan shot back, giving her a razor blade of a smile, which she returned.

“It’s the facial hair.” Henry explained. “But no, seriously. Cabeswater theory or otherwise, it’s all on you, Gansey Three. You always said you felt like an old man, and Noah would have been like— what, mid-thirties?” Noah nodded, mouth full of gelato that dripped from the roof of his mouth down onto his tongue in a massive glob.

“Yah.” Henry withheld from saying something along the lines of,  _ date your resident grandpa _ . He knew thirty wasn’t old, but he couldn’t help himself when it still felt forever away.

“Cabeswater practically gave you Noah’s life. You getting closer to the time you were supposed to die also was reflected in how Noah was falling apart. You were dying, so by proxy so was he since that was his life in the first place. So you coming back makes sense for Noah to come back.”

“That theory can only be proven once Gansey dies again.” Adam mumbled. He’d been unable to look Henry head on since he and Noah had arrived, too much guilt. Noah had pretended not to notice and Henry felt it actually made it easier to talk to Adam.

“Well so long as you guys die first, I’ll never be proven wrong.” Henry beamed.

“Well sorry to say, I’m gonna be the last fucker at this table to die.” Ronan cut in, shoving his empty cup into the center of the table.

“Bullshit. You know why Asian family traditions are ancient as hell? Cuz little old Asian people just will  _ not  _ die. And need I remind you, I’m Chinese  _ and  _ Korean, which is  _ two  _ kinds of Asian, so I got this down in the bag.”

“You know, if you’re right, then we can live together forever. Like, Twilight, but not bad.” Noah decided.

“Lost Boys?” Blue offered.

“Nah, nah. Totally Interview With a Vampire.” Ronan waved off her idea.

“You guys are just listing vampire movies.” Adam snorted.

“Ronan’s was a romance vampire movie, which is exactly what Twilight but not bad entails.” Gansey defended. Ronan stuck out his tongue at Adam, who snapped his teeth at him as if to bite it.

“Henry,” Noah mumbled softly. “M’tired. Thought I could last longer, I’m sorry.” He leaned his head on his shoulder, Henry giving his hand a squeeze. He'd also tapered off in the conversation, so Henry could tell he was getting tired.

“Don’t be, it happens. We can always facetime everyone once we’re home.” Henry offered, practically speaking into his hair.

“How are you two going to go on vacation if Noah keeps getting tired after practically everything?” Adam asked, genuinely worried and curious.

“I can sleep in my body now. I practically have sleep apnea, but if it gets that bad either Henry will wake me up or I just get ejected. Work in progress.” Noah explained as Henry collected all of their trash, drinking the rest of their gelato.

“So you suffocate and  _ die _ ?” Blue gaped.

“Pretty much.” Noah giggled, hair falling into his face and sunlight catching in his eyes that lingered, even after he turned away from the window. “Like I said, work in progress.”

“Well, let us know when you’re home.” Gansey requested, shooing everyone out of the booth so he could hug Noah goodbye and Henry if he let him. Noah hummed in agreement, Gansey accidentally slamming his leg into the side of his wheelchair.

“Be a masochist on your own time, Dick.” Ronan scolded, Gansey ignoring what was sure to be a bruise to hug Noah.

“You know Henry convinced me not to get spikes on the wheels because of how often you do that?”

“You wanted  _ spikes  _ on this thing?” Gansey clearly wanted to parrish the thought as soon as it was brought to his attention.

“I convinced him to get the wheels painted with skulls that have glitter in ‘em like those phone cases instead.” Henry offered with a shrug.

“That’ll be cool. You making it or buying it? Cuz we should make it.” Blue asked, wiggling out of the booth.

“I’d be down to make it! It’d be good motor skill practice. And we can go to a ton of art stores looking for a crap ton of glitter!”

“It’s a date!” Blue agreed, kissing his cheek and hugging him goodbye.

“Does that mean G3 and I have to be manly-men and go to like… Lowes or something?” Henry was practically pouting, disgusted at the thought. He didn’t want splinters in his lungs and that place was  _ covered  _ in sawdust. Or was that Home Depot?

“No, I’ll also be the manly-man and go to Lowes. You two can work on scrapbook stuff.” Blue offered, Adam snorting.

“Oh, hell yeah.” Henry high fived Gansey, who couldn’t help but laugh.

“Triple date if Ronan ever decides to get more crayons for Opal.” Adam offered, chin in his hand on the table.

“It wasn’t crayons, it was markers— and no, she straight up eats them like like icys.”

“Get her some cheap ones then— or chalk. Doesn’t she also like chalk? I swear she ate it like a pixie stick the one time she tried to cut them up to look like smarties. Or was  _ that  _ the crayons?”

“No, that was the chalk.” Ronan groaned, pressing his thumbs against his eyes. She was clearly going to give him an aneurysm.

“Get her those big old tubs of sidewalk chalk, she’ll be happy.” Noah offered. “Or we can have her help with the art project. That’ll probably keep her busy for a bit, give you guys some privacy if you want it.” No one missed the look Adam and Ronan exchanged.

“If she eats your stuff, not our fault.” That was Ronan’s way of saying yes, they would very much like some privacy.

“No worries. It’s just stuff.” Henry reassured with a shrug, then paused. “...Mostly. But yeah. Shoot us a text once we’re back in Henrietta, we’ll set something up.”

“Of course. Send us photos.” Gansey requested, seating himself back down at the table, but everyone knew once one of the cabinet left, the meeting was dismissed for the day.

“Nothing but Weekend at Bernie’s type stuff.” Noah promised, Henry pulling him away from the table with a snort. “Maybe a gross kissing selfie or seven...teen.” Henry leaned down and kissed him, nose brushing against his forehead.

Regardless of why he was back, Henry was grateful for Noah and Noah was grateful for him; that was all that mattered.


End file.
